


you and i were fireworks

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Series: Fall Out Boy Fic February 2015~ [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Definitely not canon compliant, Does this make sense?, M/M, i don't know what this is, mickey is out???, they're like... idk? 18/19?, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah. Mickey was a lot like mental convolvulus. Destructive and beautiful, and in way too deep in Ian’s head, and there was no fucking way to get him out, because he’d sprout up somewhere else and make his presence known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and i were fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> something semi-unusual for me: this is mostly written from ian's view. and in a frankly _startling_ turn of events, title comes from a fall out boy song, off the ab/ap album - this time, 'fourth of july' (lol can u tell), and literally, this verse:
> 
>  
> 
> _I wish I'd known how much you loved me // I wish I cared enough to know. // I'm sorry every song's about you // The torture of small talk with someone you used to love._

It had been almost six months since Ian and Mickey had last seen each other.

Snow had coated the ground when they last spoke. It crunched underfoot as Mickey walked away and left Ian standing under the tracks of the L, and the sound echoed how Ian’s insides were crumbling in on themselves. Ruby droplets stained the pristine blanket as Ian stood in shock, curled in on himself, in a vain attempt to keep himself together, and maybe stop the bruises from spreading under his skin. It hadn’t helped, and eventually he had had to accept that this time he might’ve pushed Mickey too far to reconcile. He always came back after taking his anger out on something.

Ian supposed that maybe he had been acting as Mickey’s punching bag this time.

But now, the snow was long gone, and the heat stuck around long into the night. The neighbourhood had gotten together for a party to celebrate Fourth of July, and there were tables of food and beer all around. Ian had invited Mandy, secretly hoping she would bring Mickey, and boy, she didn’t disappoint.

In the humidity and overall suckfest that was the middle of summer, the sight of Mickey was like an arctic blast that went straight through Ian. He looked good. Real good. He had been working out a lot, from what Mandy had been telling him.

The one thing she neglected to tell Ian was that Mickey was now toting around a new piece of arm candy. How the fuck had Mickey managed to hook this guy? He looked like he should be gracing the covers of… something. Magazines. The glossy ones with important fonts and expensive ink.

Mandy told Ian that Mickey had come out to her a few months ago, because it looked like their dad was in jail for good this time, and Mickey felt safe enough to “be the person he really was”. What the fuck ever. Mandy didn’t know that Ian already knew Mickey was gay, Hell – he was probably the first person who fucking knew. You don’t go around questioning the sexuality of a guy you should your dick in on a _pretty fucking frequent_ basis.

Or maybe Mandy had finally connected the dots between Ian and Mickey and knew that they were fucking. Maybe that was why she hadn’t told Ian about this new fucker.

Mickey was laughing at his jokes, and beaming at him in a way that used to be directed to Ian. He used to do a lot of things with Ian, but Mickey’s laugh, and the way his eyes twinkled when he looked at him were the two things Ian missed the most. Mickey had wormed his way deep into Ian’s head, like a noxious vine of some kind – the ones that you can try to kill over and over again, but they keep coming back and just won’t fucking leave. Like a fucking convolvulus. Taking over everything in its path and killing things underneath, because they never see the light of day, but you don’t half mind, because it’s nice to look at the flowers.

Yeah. Mickey was a lot like mental convolvulus. Destructive and beautiful, and in way too deep in Ian’s head, and there was no fucking way to get him out, because he’d sprout up somewhere else and make his presence known.

A lot like what was happening right now. He was flaunting his relationship with this fucker, _right_ in Ian’s fucking face, and Ian was close to breaking point. He wouldn’t do it, though. He wouldn’t snap, and give Mickey the satisfaction of knowing how much of an effect he still had on him. So, Ian pushed the heat rising in his body back down, and he calmly dropped his empty beer bottle in a bin on his way to get another from the drinks table.

‘Ian.’

Ian looked up at the sound of his name, and instantly wished he hadn’t. Mickey’s ice blue eyes were like fire shooting through his veins, and Ian clenched his jaw as he replied, ‘Mickey.’

Mickey smiled and picked up a couple of beers. ‘How’ve you been?’

‘Fine,’ Ian said, reminding himself he was supposed to be acting nonplussed about everything Mickey related. He wanted Mickey here, didn’t he? ‘You?’

‘Good, yeah,’ Mickey shot a smile over his shoulder to where his new beau was talking with a few people from around Ian’s street. ‘Made a new friend.’

‘I see that.’

‘He’s nice. His name’s Kyle. Nice ass,’ Mickey grinned. ‘Not that great in bed, not smart, either, but he’s… y’know.’

‘Nice.’

‘Yeah. Nice,’ Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Ian knew by this point it was a subconscious move Mickey made when he was nervous as fuck. ‘You, uh. You here with anyone?’

‘Nope.’

‘Have you…’ Mickey cleared his throat. ‘I mean, since we…’

‘No.’

‘Oh. Thought you would’ve,’ Mickey muttered, almost to himself.

‘Did you?’ Ian shook his head. ‘Nah. I’ve been a lone wolf since then.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why?’

Ian huffed in disbelief and finally selected a drink. ‘You don’t get to know about me anymore, Mickey,’ he said quietly, walking over to where Lip was sitting with Ian’s plate of food.

‘All good over there?’ Lip asked, flicking his eyes to where Mickey was standing, staring down at the beers in his hands, like they held all the answers to his problems.

‘He’s here with someone,’ Ian muttered, stabbing angrily at a piece of blackened bacon on his plate.

‘Yeah, Mandy.’

‘And that fucking buff surfer dude. “Kyle’s really nice”,’ Ian mocked. ‘Kyle can go fuck himself on a fucking lit firework.’

‘I could probably get Carl to arrange that,’ Lip offered. ‘Why’re you so pissed off? Thought you were over him.’

Ian stopped stabbing his bacon and gave his brother a look that said nothing but _“Are you fucking joking?”_

‘Getting the feeling I’m wrong?’

‘Um. Yeah.’

Lip whacked his brother on the shoulder blade and shrugged. ‘Go talk to him, then.’

‘Why the fuck would I do that? He’s got Kyle for company,’ Ian paused. ‘Not intelligent company, apparently. But company nonetheless.’

‘Looks like he doesn’t want Kyle for company,’ Lip mumbled. ‘Incoming.’

‘What –’

‘Can I talk to you?’ Mickey asked, from somewhere over Ian’s shoulder.

Ian turned to face Mickey, and tilted his head. ‘Why?’

‘Because I fucking want to, Jesus.’

‘Talk then,’ Ian said, raising an eyebrow in challenge and picking up his beer to take a sip.

‘In private?’ Mickey said, jerking his head to the tracks of the L.

Like history fucking repeating itself, Ian got up and followed Mickey. Probably to the same fucking column, as well. That would be just like Mickey. Rubbing it in like salt in the fucking wound. ‘What do you want?’ Ian asked, once Mickey had stopped walking and turned to face him.

‘I want to talk.’

‘I’m not talking with you.’

‘Why not?’

Ian narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t think it even needs to be said, Mickey.’

‘It fucking does, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re so pissed at me, Gallagher,’ Mickey replied. ‘What the fuck, man?’

‘You’re here with that single brain celled organism, rubbing it in my face that you’ve moved on,’ Ian snarled, causing Mickey to raise an eyebrow at his tone. ‘All I fucking did was say I loved you, and you fucking _left_ me.’

‘Oh, that was all you did?’ Mickey asked. ‘The way I remember it, you wanted me to come out, right? And I told you I would rather live than have my own father kill me. Any of that ringing a bell?’

‘And look! You came out!’

‘Yeah, I did,’ Mickey said defensively. ‘After my father went to prison. For murder. Of another gay guy.’

Ian balked and shrunk slightly, not having realised he had moved into Mickey’s space. ‘You didn’t come back, though.’

‘Like I said,’ Mickey looked down and kicked the dusty ground. ‘Thought you would’ve moved on.’

‘Shoulda known better.’

‘Yeah, I should’ve,’ Mickey agreed. ‘You didn’t exactly come after me, Gallagher.’

‘Wow, wonder why that was? Last time I saw you, you fucking punched me and kicked me in the stomach, asshole. That doesn’t exactly give me warm, fuzzy feelings,’ Ian pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled forcibly. ‘Are we done here?’

‘Are we – _No,_ we’re not fucking done here.’

‘Then skip to the part where you tell me you love this Kyle guy, or beat me up, or tell me you never even liked me in the first place, because I am fucking _done_ with feeling like this about you!’ Ian cried. ‘I’m fucking done! Alright?’

Mickey put his bottle on the ground and held his hands out in surrender. ‘Gallagher, look –’

‘My name is Ian!’

Mickey rolled his eyes. _‘Ian_. I’m fucking...’

‘Kyle. You’re fucking Kyle.’

‘No. Well,’ Mickey paused. ‘Yeah, I am. Was. He’s a friend, nothing more.’

‘Then what’s with all the looks?’

‘What looks?’

‘You used to look at me like that,’ Ian said quietly, the fight drained from his body, leaving him sagging where he stood.

‘Ian –’

‘Mick, just tell me what you fucking want so I can go.’

Mickey chewed on his bottom lip and stayed quiet, so Ian just turned and left. He might’ve heard Mickey call his name, but really – Ian was beyond caring.

 

* * *

 

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you look this miserable before,’ Mandy noted. They were sitting on the grass against a chain link fence, as someone prepared all the fireworks to be lit.

‘Your brother’s a fucking asshole,’ Ian muttered darkly.

 ‘What did Mickey do?’ Mandy asked.

‘Move on.’

‘What?’

‘Kyle,’ Ian said. ‘He’s in love with Kyle and not me, and it fucking sucks.’

Mandy blinked. ‘You have a crush on my brother?’

‘No, I’m in love with your brother.’

‘Why?’

Ian shrugged. ‘I guess a couple years of fucking does that to you.’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa,’ Mandy took Ian’s beer from him and set it on the ground behind her. ‘You were fucking my brother?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you knew he was gay?’

‘Well, I had my suspicions when – _yes, I knew_ ,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘But _that_ doesn’t matter, and _I_ don’t matter, because now he’s got his new lover and I’m going to stab him in his sleep.’

‘Kyle?’

‘No, Mickey.’

‘Um, well, don’t. They’re not together. They fucked like… one time. Mickey complained to me the next day saying his dick was too small after…’ Mandy frowned. ‘Huh.’

‘What?’

‘He said he was too small after “the red fucker”.’

Ian felt weirdly proud at that and shrugged to Mandy. ‘Guess your brother’s a size queen.’

Mandy grimaced. ‘Found his box of toys a few months after he came out. I don’t even want to talk about it.’

The corner of Ian’s mouth twitched into a smile, and there was a short burst of light from the fireworks area. From the sounds of it, the dude with the fire had accidentally lit it, and it turned out to be a dud. ‘I miss him, Mands.’

‘Talk to him, then. He’s not in love with Kyle, I promise.’

‘How do you know? He got that look in his eye when he was looking at Kyle.’

Mandy shook her head. ‘Nah, that’s what happens when light shines directly into your eyes.’

_Huh._ ‘So…’

‘Mickey’s free as a fucking bird, so please go fuck him. He’s been too moody for me to handle since like... Christmas. He used to be in such a better mood.’

‘Yeah, that would’ve been because of me,’ Ian said, standing and brushing off his jeans. ‘Where is he?’

Mandy pointed to somewhere near the corner of the snacks table – fucking typical Mickey. ‘Good luck!’ she called.

Ian flipped her off as he weaved through the crowds of people. He sought Mickey out, and grabbed his arm, hauling him away from a bowl of Cheetos and to the back of where everyone was standing, facing away from them.

‘Gallagher?’ Mickey asked, sucking orange dust off his fingers. ‘What the fuck?’

‘You don’t love Kyle?’ Ian said hurriedly.

‘No, I –’

‘You’re not dating anyone?’

‘No, and –’

‘You’re _completely_ available?’

‘Yes –’

‘Do you love me?’ Ian asked.

Mickey wasn’t quick to reply, but he looked up at Ian, and after almost a minute of deep breathing and mental preparation, he said, ‘I’ve been trying to tell you that the whole night.’

Ian’s face slowly split into a grin. ‘You love me.’

‘Yes, I –’

Ian ended Mickey’s sentence by pressing their mouths together, and it was like he was firing on all cylinders again. Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck, and melted into the taller boy, as fireworks lit up the night sky behind them.

Mickey broke off and rested his forehead against Ian’s, having perched up on tip toe. ‘Will you stop interrupting me for a second?’

Ian smiled and pecked Mickey’s lips again. ‘I suppose.’

‘I’m sorry about what happened last time we talked. I wasn’t ready, and I thought it would be easier to push you away than to live knowing you felt like that,’ Mickey’s grip tightened on Ian. ‘But I loved you then, and I love you now, and –’

‘I don’t need to know anything else,’ Ian interrupted. ‘Because Mickey Milkovich just told me he loves me, and I love him, so right now, I would really like to go and fuck him somewhere, because Mickey’s sister told me that he hasn’t had a decent fuck in a while.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Mickey’s sister was right, and Mickey would really like that.’

‘Good,’ Ian breathed, kissing Mickey again.

Make up sex could wait, because kissing Mickey was intoxicating, and Ian had every intention of getting drunk right now, under the bursts of bright colour against the ink black night.

**Author's Note:**

> i have to be up in like 7 hours to finish a fucking banoffee pie so really it was a horrible decision to start writing this at midnight and finish at 2am. i hope you know i'm sacrificing a lot of sleep for you guys right now.


End file.
